One More Time, Not Like the First
by Jinxed-Wood
Summary: For a woman with her feet on solid ground, Martha Jones felt she had more than her fair share of epiphanies in her life, but none felt more real, more clear, than the one she had when they removed the lid of the capsule - dw femslash ficathon submission!


**Written for the 2009 dw_femslash ficathon on Livejournal!**

* * *

They found the capsule in the Thames on Guy Fawkes Day, and it easily shed the murky waste of the river as the firecrackers snapped and popped overhead. They made a good distraction, Martha Jones thought, as she stepped near the artefact.

"It looks brand new," said Lieutenant John Reynard, UNIT liaison officer with the Thames Valley police. "Not a mark on it…"

"We thought it'd be one for you lot," piped up DCI Marks, as she stomped her feet against the cold.

"Looks like it," Martha agreed softly, as she took off one of her gloves and traced the air above its lid. It began to glow gently; a line of glyphs, colours mingling and blazing down its length. Lieutenant Reynard took an unconscious step backward.

"What does it mean?" DCI Marks asked. Martha could hear the discomfort in her voice.

_It means that history is repeating itself. _But Martha didn't say that aloud, and shrugged as she pulled on her gloves. "Glyphs aren't my field," she said, not quite telling a lie. "But radiation levels are well within tolerance; it should be okay to move it."

DCI Marks gave her a sharp look. "You sure about that?"

"Nothing is a hundred percent in this business," Martha ruefully said, as she made a mental note of the police officer's name. UNIT was always in need of people who asked the right questions.

* * *

The capsule behaved itself all the way to the lab, much to Martha's relief. She half expected it to burst open while still in transit, and proclaim the end of the world, or free tea and chips - or possibly both. The Black Archive loomed in front of them, and Martha felt a moment of foreboding. She wasn't the only one who recognised the glyphs, then.

"Not taking any chances, are they?" Lieutenant Reynard remarked, offhandedly.

"No, I guess they aren't," Martha said quietly. She could feel her phone burning a hole in her pocket. _Not yet,_ she told herself,_ not yet_.

* * *

For a girl with her feet on solid ground, Martha Jones felt she had more than her fair share of epiphanies in her life, but none felt more real, more clear, than the one she had when they removed the lid of the capsule. She had been waiting for this.

The woman lay deathly still, as if in repose, with her arms folded in front of her and her pale hair fanned out around her head. Her robes were elaborate and richly embroidered with symbols, and made Martha shiver.

"Well, I wasn't expecting _that_," said the lab technician by her side.

Martha silently pulled out her stethoscope and put it to her chest... and then, as surreptitiously as she could, shifted it another few inches.

_Thrupity thrup, thrupity thrup, thrupity thrup, thrupity thrup_

"She looks human," said the lab technician.

"Yes, she does," Martha said, hoping he didn't notice the shake in her voice. "You'd better alert the Colonel."

The door closed behind him, sealing them into the lab. For a few minutes, they were alone; there were no cameras in this room, all the better for plausible deniability. Martha pinched the woman's wrist and muttered, "I know you're awake. C'mon we don't have much time; he'll be back in a moment."

Her eyes flashed open. "Oh, you're too clever by half."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Martha said, as she pulled her out of the capsule. "I'm Martha, by the way."

"I'm Fred," the woman said promptly. Martha gave her a long look, and the woman sighed. "But you may call me Romana."

Martha nodded. "It could be worse," she said resignedly. "You could have had a name with a _the_ in front of it."

"Ah, you're one of those, are you," Romana said, as her eyes scanned the room..

Martha's lips twitched. "Don't you mean, one of us?"

Her eyes snapped back, and Martha felt that, for the first time, she was really looking at her. "We need to leave," she said.

"I thought we already covered that," Martha said impatiently.

"Oh, we haven't even begun," Romana said, with a surety that Martha found all too familiar, as she felt the Time Lord's fingers curl around her own. Something inside her leapt, something that she had thought had been dampened down and made safe; she felt her mouth go dry.

Not _again._

They were through the door and down the corridor before the first alarm went off, and Romana's grip tightened as she pulled out a very familiar looking object out of her robes. They burst through the front doors together; guns were pointed, but didn't fire, as the sonic screwdriver whined shrilly.

"Jeep or truck?" she asked briskly.

"Jeep," Martha said firmly.

And, just like that, Martha Jones left UNIT behind her. It was surprising how easy it was, really.

* * *

They were halfway to Oxford before reality began to sink in. "I'm married," she blurted out.

"Really?" Romana asked lightly, not taking her eyes off the road. "Your lot are still doing that? How industrious of you."

"You make it sound like a chore."

"Do I?" Romana mused. "Hmmm, must be something I'm picking up off you,"

Martha didn't like what that inferred, but couldn't think of anything to refute it. "Where are we going?" she eventually asked. "I mean, you _do_ have a destination in mind, don't you?"

"I _might_ have," Romana answered slyly.

"We could just call the Doctor, you know, have him pick you up."

"Don't you mean us?"

Martha shrugged, not knowing how to answer that, and Romana sighed.

"Ah, like that, is it?" she said. "Well, how about we try my plan first?" She reached out, her fingers trailing along the back of Martha's hand, ghostlike. Martha grasped and stilled her hand, as she tried to sort out the jumble in her head, and the dizzying hope in her heart. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to do this again.

Romana didn't say anything for the rest of the trip, but Martha held onto her hand, regardless.

* * *

They sat on a lumpy old couch, dutifully sipping weak tea, as their host, Professor Hodgins, waxed on enthusiastically about his predecessor. "Of course, he had a good innings," he said, "The old professor was practically...why, my father once told me that the old coot was teaching when my grandfather read here! Of course, that may have been another Chronotis – his father perhaps?"

Romana smiled at him sadly. "It does seem that there was a Chronotis teaching here for at least a few centuries, yes," she said softly. "I say, is that someone at your door?"

"What? I didn't hear anything...?"

"Oh, I distinctly heard a rap at the door," Romana said solemnly. "Didn't you, Martha?"

"Oh...yes," Martha said. "It was very distinct."

"Perhaps you should go check," Romana prompted. "Don't worry about us."

"Oh, right!" he said. Martha almost felt sorry for the Professor as he went to the door and opened it. "Hello?" he asked, uncertainly, as he took a half step out into the hallway.

Like a flash, Romana was on her feet and across the room. A small nudge from her hand, and the Professor found himself deposited in the corridor.

"I say—"

Romana shut the door on him, and turned the key. "Hold on tight," she said to Martha. "This old girl is very frail at the moment; she hasn't had the attentions of a Time Lord since she lost poor old Chronotis." She spun and crossed the room, homing in on a small cabinet. She pulled it open, revealing an eerily familiar set of levers. Martha's eyes widened.

"This is a TARDIS?"

"A very old one, yes," Romana said, as she flipped a lever. Engines groaned to life, and Romana laughed with delight, her eyes bright as she turned to Martha. "Oh, we are going to have such _fun,_" she promised.

* * *

A kiss, a lingering kiss, as Romana pushed her back onto the couch. The TARDIS wailed around them as her mouth drifted to Martha's jawline, and then the curve of her neck, slow and insistent. Martha sighed, feeling something inside give, as Romana nimbly unbuttoned her blouse.

"This isn't some kind of genetic transfer, is it?" she asked, doubt rearing its ugly head as desire threatened to take hold.

Romana smiled against her skin. "Well, I definitely intend on taking samples," she murmured, as her hand reached for her jeans.

"Oh," Martha murmured, and then, a few moments later. _"Oh."_

The TARDIS moved onwards.

**FINIS**


End file.
